Cat's Craddle With A Liger
by cravenato426
Summary: In which a quiet Woman dies, later gets reborn into a world where it's Do or Die, and decides whether or not she will get involved in a plot where she practically knows nothing about. Self Insert! [SI!OC]
1. Prologue: every EPIC story needs one

****Not Edited****

 ** **Disclaimer: I own nothing.****

* * *

Dying was and wasn't what I expected it to be.

I don't think death ever meets anyone's expectations.

In a lot of ways it seemed simple, yet complicated. Even though you are aware that you no longer exist among the living, you don't technically feel as if you are dead. The whole experience was in itself a sort of paradox, but in the midst of all this confusion, I can definitely confirm one thing... there was no heaven... there was no hell.

Or, I thought I could.

Where I ended up, there was simply a dark, infinite infinite space.

In this 'space' everything and nothing existed, it was dark but bright(maybe I was going crazy), everything felt tangible, but there wasn't really anything there. In short, it was confusing and annoying and the only thing to do was die of boredom. Ironically.

Time seemed to pass at a languid pace. There was no way to tell what time it was or how much time has passed. I was starting to get restless even though I didn't have a body to move, but it felt like I could move.

Eventually, I just decided that I would just think about my life. Probably go over it, think about what kind a person I was, what kind of person I wanted to be, what were my fondest memories, what TV shows I liked to watched, Which ones did I manage to finish, which ones I didn't particularly liked and why? I thought about all the boys or girls I never got to kiss(I was convinced I might have been pansexual), the places I wanted to go, The fanfiction that I observed almost religiously for updates. I wanted to finally get around to all those pinterest DIY projects that seemed so cool. I was almost done designing the perfect desk for my room and now it's a waste (I hope they still make it though it could possibly be a good income for my dad to make them on the side), but back to the regrets, all the anime I wanted to watch, and the manga I wanted to read will never happen.

I never got to try dango or marry a super hot brazilian and have lots of kids to equal the amount of names that I think are cool. Damn it! My sexy brazilian! I never even got the chance to have at least a long term boyfriend.

* * *

My time in that place was spent in thought and daydreaming, eventually thinking up different fanfiction plots that I will never be able to write but to be honest I don't think I would have ever really gotten around to it, mostly because I was pretty busy and was more interested in reading everyone else's fanfiction stories.

Back to the main point, I'm stuck here in this place and it sucks because I can't feel anything. I'm not happy, sad, or frustrated just numb, but like everything else, it was very confusing because when I went through my memories I could recognize all the emotions in the scenes and that's all I did I tried to remember everything that I knew brought fond memories but felt nothing as I saw myself laugh or cry. It was like almost watching a movie, as if that was not truly me experiencing this. I knew what emotions were being experienced and why, but I simply could not empathize. I couldn't feel anything. Nothing felt wrong or out of place, but logical manner I knew.

As time went on, the space I inhabited became smaller, and I started to worry whether or not I was developing claustrophobia; fortunately, it wasn't, but the bad thing was that this space was closing in on started to shove me upward rather harshly. There seemed to be an opening that I have never noticed before, could this have been the entrance to heaven? Finally, I've been waiting a long time for this, thinking I would never make it. There seemed to be something wrong though. why did the space feel like it was getting smaller?

Oh, _wow_.

If this doesn't cause me to develop claustrophobia nothing will.

Something is pushing me out...

 _Ugh_... _My head is out, but the rest of my body is still stuck_...

 _Ok, I'm out...Shit! it's cold out here!_

 _Am I naked?!..._

 _SMACK!..._

 _HOLY SHIT! DID SOMEONE JUST SMACK MY ASS?!_

They're talking about something now.

Why does everything sound so far away?

I'm so confused…

* * *

After three months of practically being blind, my sight finally cleared enough to progress past the vague, blurry stage where it just seemed like there was just a bunch of splatter paint everywhere.

When I attempted to open my eyes for the first time, there was nothing but blurry, light blue blobs moving everywhere, against the brightest, white backdrop on the planet. It was like watching an inverted, colored sky moving. Everything was moving pretty slow, so I assumed that my new afterlife was just me lying down somewhere soft and fluffy(another cloud?) looking at they sky, and as far as I was concerned, it wasn't so bad. Which is why this "tunnel vision' did not particularly bother me most of the time; I just figured it was one of the perks of being dead.

I was a pretty relaxed and a bit antisocial in my last life. I took any chance I had to just sit down in any chair against the wall and observe whatever was going on. This sort of approach usually saved me from becoming involved in unnecessary drama throughout high school.

I picked up on body language pretty early. Watching others, learning about their ticks and habits enough to help me get along with others in a sense where I knew what to say, and what to do instead of actually sharing common interests.

My 'hobby' helped make sure that I won't ever particularly stand out, and I was more than okay with that since my antisocial tendencies seem to come from some bizarre, instinctual social anxiety I seem to have when there are large groups of people around me.

It made sense too since I always made sure I was always in the background and not anywhere nearly seen. It genuinely wasn't hard though; there was nothing interesting about me at all, I was only slightly above average in terms of looks(just good for a glance but not enough for a second look).

At the end of that third month, the tunnel vision completely disappeared, and I was finally able to see what was really going on. I was in some sort of cage that appeared to be a crib of some sort(if the design was anything to say). It looked worn from years of use and didn't seem to be particularly well taken care of if the dents and faded color from lack of polisher on the wood tools us anything.

I was there for quite some time before anyone came and took notice of me.

Eventually, someone did come. It was an older woman who seemed to be in her mid forties. She came in with a muted pink apron, greyed, brown hair, and tired, Hazel eyes. She seemed to be holding a bottle of milk in her hand. She got closer to my crib and peered down at me. As soon as she saw me, she smiled a sweet smile, and I couldn't understand why since I have never seen this woman in my entire life.

Either she didn't notice my incredulous expression or she just didn't care. She reached out, grabbing me to heft me up from my comfortable position in my wooded prison. I was quite bothered but decided it was too much work to really do anything about it but make a face to show my displeasure.

I guess she must have really found my reaction amusing since all she did was start grinning. It took off about ten years off her face.

She started to coo at me and talk in...Italian?

" Ciao, bambino Amara~

Marcela Zia `e venuto a nutrire e vedere como si sta facendo~"(1)

Yea, I'm pretty sure it's Italian.

She started feeding me through the bottle. I should have felt more alarmed about it, but honestly, weirder things have happened to me in my short life.

This woman couldn't expect me to understand what she was talking about, right? I only spoke about three languages. I say 'about' because I only knew English, Spanish, and how to read in Russian and very roughly knew some words to have a vague conversation, nothing complicated just basic stuff, and I even had some trouble with that.

"Guarda come carina quella faccia`. Quegli occhi sono positivamente vibrant.",(2) She continued.

Okay, I understood something about something being positive or without a doubt, but it could have meant anything since, like I said, I. DON'T. SPEAK. ITALIAN.

She kept babbling about some nonsense when I finally got fed up with her and opened my mouth to tell her that I only spoke in English and Spanish.

It was rather surprising to not hear English, or rather any language but baby babble come out of my mouth. Surely, that was a simple mistake right? There's no way that came out of these eloquent lips.

I was so stunned that I didn't notice her remove the empty bottle from my mouth and lied me against her and began, to what seemed like,'burp me'. Although I was grateful for the help, I couldn't help but think there was something wrong with this picture. I didn't know how wrong until,

"Mio Signore, si ottiene solo piu carino di tutti i giorni! Si deve vedere solo quanto."(3)

I was still lost on the whole Italian, but I didn't think it mattered once she sat me down.

Now let me explain, I thought I was in the afterlife. I didn't mind that all I was doing was laying down and sleeping. It was a change that seemed perfectly normal compared to my previous life where I barely had a spare moment to do anything I liked, which I sacrificed a tremendous amount of sleep to do.

Now that I think about it, I never got to the 'how's' of my death. It is quite simple, the universe thought it was hilarious.

No, really, it did. It's the only explanation.

I went years with the mindset of 'Sleep is for the weak' or 'I'll sleep when I die', and the one time I decide that I should do that 'eight hour sleep' everyone is talking about, it was the perfect time to execute that impromptu assassination by killing me...in my sleep. It wasn't even like there was a justified cause. There was no tumor, blood clot, allergic reaction, not even anything relating to my asthma. I just went to bed with the intention of some much needed rest with the intention of eventually waking up to continue my life.

I was not amused.

I figured I was dead when I saw my family freaking out trying to wake me up, calling 911, and scavenging my room to see if I took any drugs intentionally.

Thanks for the vote of confidence guys.

The medics declared me dead three minutes after their arrival since it was obvious that I have been dead for a while. At the morgue, they were scratching their brains out trying to figure out my cause of death but decided it was unknown.

I wasn't sad that I died, just worried for my family; I wouldn't want them crying over, my death unnecessarily. It was interesting to see what they did with all my stuff though.

So considering my personality, you see, it was pretty obvious to see why my "perfect" after life was just to show up somewhere calm and relaxing where I wouldn't have to worry about anything. And this old woman just seemed like some kind of hired help to let me enjoy my paradise to the max.

My mind just continued to unconsciously find ways to make this seem completely normal for an after life, but it seemed like I forgot one crucial part: nothing past death should ever be considered normal, or better yet, predictable, especially with the way I kicked the bucket. I wasn't even done with my list.

So when this, Marcella woman sat me in front of a mirror, I didn't see the face I was expecting. The waist length, dark, caramel colored tresses that I was used to were replaced with tufts of silky looking raven hair. The brown chocolate eyes, nope, just these abnormally large golden gems that seemed to eerily glow in the darker lights. And did I freak out and scream when I saw this wasn't me at all, but some baby? absolutely.

Ok, I admit. I might have over reacted, but I couldn't help it. I was just so startled to realize that this was supposedly my reflection when it _**shouldn't**_ have been _._

My sudden freak out seemed to have startled the old woman into thinking something was wrong or maybe thought I was scared of my own reflection.

Well,...she wouldn't be wrong.

"Ciò che è sbagliato bambino? Va tutto bene, andrà tutto bene".(4)

I don't know what she said, but it didn't help me feel any better.

* * *

Translation:

1) "Hello, baby Amara. Aunt Marcella came to feed you are doing."

2) "Look how cute that face is. Those eyes are positively vibrant."

3) "My lord, you just get cuter everyday! You must see just how much.

4) " What's wrong baby? It's ok, everything will be all right"

 **(A/N): Ok, well this is my first attempt at a story. The plot bunnies just wouldn't leave me ever since the idea came to me in a dream. I've even paused the other story I was working on to get this started (more like actually reviewing since that other story was written about five years to see if it was any good).**

 **I actually put up a poll on my profile about which story anyone even interested in my work would like to see me work on next.**

 **I would also like to request that anyone reading this would be kind enough to leave a review on their thoughts and whether or not I should continue.**

 **I'd also like people to know that this story doesn't have a fixed plot, so I'm also comfortable with a PM giving me any ideas for possible scenes or any interesting OMAKE you'd like to see during the duration of the story.**

 **There might be slow/random updates since I'm only a poor college student running on little to no sleep and sugar.**

 **I'm also interested in a BETA, though I'm not sure on how to acquire one but once I look into it and if this story gains any popularity it'd be pretty awesome to have one.**


	2. Ch1 Pre-cannon life Arc pt 1

**Not Edited**

 **Disclaimer: I still own nothing**

* * *

Once I got over the fact that I was now a baby, I almost facepalmed for being so oblivious.

I mean seriously, my first clue should have been the fact that there was a random woman attending to me in the first place, like I was some sort of invalid when I obviously was not.

I kid you not. She gave me a bath. I still don't understand how I didn't panic.

After that event, I finally managed to get my ass in gear and attempt to figure out just what the hell was going on, which meant that fourth month was spent moving and trying to develop some muscle control, so that I can finally move independently.

It was incredibly boring to just lie there and retrain yourself to do something you already know how to do. It was like knowing how to read but still having to practice your ABC's to move onto the next level. Better yet, It's more like making it to the last level in your game, but before you even attempt it, all your saved progress gets somehow deleted, so you have to start from level one.

I really hated this since it seemed so tedious and repetitive. Especially to a girl with the mind of a twenty year old woman. Long term projects were never my thing.

I was that kind of person who got bored really quick. Nothing ever seemed to really hold my attention besides a few select things.

Anime was a really great way to keep my attention especially the ones that appeared on Shonen Jump. Naruto, Bleach, One Piece, Blue Exorcist, basically any action anime was awesome, I just couldn't read the manga. I knew I was missing out since the manga typically contains scenes not really found in the shows, but it was just so boring reading or rather, looking at pictures of fighting than watching it the way it was meant to be watched. I could only ever really tolerate manga when it was either Shojo or if it was BL(Boy's Love), mostly because they usually make it too fast paced when it is converted into an anime while in a manga it is able progress at it's own pace.

Seriously though, I was going crazy without anything really stimulating for me to do. I couldn't knit, play a game of darts, read fanfiction, or do anything. They wouldn't even place me in front of a **TV**. I figured it was because I was still about 4-5 months old and haven't learned to properly sit up, but I swear to whatever higher power out there I am going to do this even if it kills me because this seems so ridiculous not to be able to do, given the fact that I have experience from my first life under my metaphorically screwed belt.

Ok, right, break over.

Next set of baby pilates, Go!

* * *

I'm about six and a half months old now which is awesome since I'm crawling everywhere albeit slowly since wood just too harsh for a baby's knees.

Apparently, I went from somewhat responsive to extremely active ever since I became aware of my situation. The caretakers at the orphanage were extremely surprised at this new development.

Did I mention the orphanage? No? _...ooops._

Well, here is the quick summary.

I was abandoned at birth.

* _Le gasp*_

HUH?! NO, WAY!

Yes, way.

But still, right? I mean, I remember my first reaction to this body, but I can actually claim that it was for a totally different reason. In fact, I am so appalled at the fact that the woman who birthed this child would so willingly give up this cute face.

I honestly didn't even think a face like this could exist.

Ok, let me just say, remember how I mentioned the black hair, the gold eyes, and, unfortunately, the baby body? Well, that was all good and dandy since those happened to be the most eye catching features on this body to date, but I never got to have a really good look at everything else, and now that I know what's on all this cuteness(It's just generally impossible for babies to be ugly), I didn't realize just _how_ cute this baby was.

It was like asking for water at a restaurant thinking you will receive a normal, regular glass, only to be brought a family sized pitcher with some lemons floating inside and the large wedge on the rim with a long, crazy decorative straw.

Yea, exaggeration of the year, but you get the point right?

I completely understand now why all these annoying strangers are always crowding me, giving me treats and attention to hopefully make them my 'favorite'. Didn't mean I was happy or even remotely appreciated it, but it was understandable. This baby was going to grow up to be the queen of all bombshells to ever exist.

Yes, even more ridiculously, beautiful than the Victoria Secret runway models from my old life. Like it wasn't enough to just be pretty like one, I had to surpass them.

Oh god, puberty might just actually kill me in this life.

I didn't understand if this was a long running joke or what you know? Give the girl something she doesn't care for and let's see what happens.

I didn't want to be beautiful. I was more interested in making other people look and feel beautiful so being regularly attractive was enough for me.

My dream job had a lot to do with different branches of cosmetology.

I wanted to be able to make other people feel beautiful. I wanted to be a part of the transformation taking place, and the process of application as well as the look on their face when you finish.

That was my dream.

Being attractive means attention, and I didn't want attention. I was an introvert in my last life for a reason. I wasn't shy though. I think that is something completely different.

I was fine doing presentations and talking in front of lots of people. I was ok with walking on the street and approaching strangers for the time or directions or even to flirt that wasn't a problem.

I didn't care what other people thought of me. I was just more comfortable being myself in quieter and low-key environments than in loud places. I didn't like crowded spaces. I don't like the Idea of so many people in my space. I can't stand small talk it exhaust and bores me, so I tend to be pretty blunt with what I say.

In my mind, you were either one of my good friends or you were just an acquaintance. In my last life, I found out real quick that there was no room in my life for people I could barely tolerate on a daily basis.

Now, I don't want to make myself sound like a victim when I say this, and I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me and make assumptions before I start getting pitied.

So when I tell you I was a victim of bullying, I want you to keep in mind that experiences are what shape you.

Luckily, it wasn't anything long term like my whole school career, it was just the third grade, but don't worry manga unintentionally gave me really good advice, and I took care of that situation real quick.

The gist was that I made a friend. This friend was a popular girl. Her name was Leslie. Nothing wrong, she just thought she was hot shit. I was young and didn't know better; I was just more interested in doing her hair every morning since she had really long hair and let me practice my braiding on it.

Basically what happened was she started treating me like her lackey, and I didn't realize it was like that. I was just trying to be a good friend.

The thing with kids is that it's always monkey see and monkey do, so when they saw how my 'friend' was treating me, they got it in their heads that that was exactly what they could do, and that is just what they did.

The stress of all the bullying eventually made me sick, and I started missing a lot of days at school. During one of those sick days, my mom finally decided to take me to a doctor to see what was going on. After the doctor's visit, we went to a walgreens to pick up some vitamins since they recommended it since they could not find anything physically wrong with me besides a lack in calcium.

At the walgreens, I got lost in the magazine aisle where I eventually found the holy grail: Shonen Jump Magazines.

Yea, best day of my life.

I went home and showed my older brother he was around 20 and was visiting and didn't seem interested, but listened anyways just to be nice.

Ok, here comes the punch line.

Haha, _punch_. Don't get it? You will.

So, eventually I went back to school with my new favorite reading material. School went about the same except for the fact that I seemed to be ignoring everything and everyone only thinking about break time where I could take out my magazine and get back to _Naruto_.

I think Leslie got fed up with me unintentionally ignoring her, so what she did was approach me while I was so engaged in the manga, though honestly if she didn't do what she did next she wouldn't have gotten hurt.

You know how when you read action manga, and you kind of start getting pumped up because of the epic fight going on, and start imagining yourself being as awesome as the characters? Well, when Leslie came out of nowhere and snatched my magazine right out of my hands and threw it into the mud and stomped on it, I kinda lost my shit and gave her my nine year old version of _GUM, GUM, PUNCH!_

Haha, Do you get the pun now?

Leslie ended up with a nosebleed...and a broken nose.

Yea, I was definitely not seen as a pushover after that.

Everything was smooth sailing after that, no one bothered me, I got to read my manga, and the best part was seeing every other nine year old tremble at the sight of my presence.

How did this shape me as a person? I Don't know, but it did earn me a pat on the back from the rest of my family when they found out.

Yea, they're awesome.

* * *

Ok, I'm two years old now.

Now, I finally got to learn what my name was. They named me Amara and if I remember right it means beautiful, peaceful, or bitter. Knowing the woman that dumped me here, she probably meant it as the later. She seemed to really dislike me.

Whatever.

Things have been pretty boring around here since there's not much for a baby to do besides observe and learn how to do basic things like walk and talk.

Yea, this lack of adult stimulation is killing me. All the books here are in Italian, and there's not even any children's books either they are meant for high schoolers, so there is the problem. I can't read the language all too well yet since I don't understand all of it yet.

On a brighter note, I was actually picking up the language quite well considering all things since they don't really talk to us. They just give us what we need and leave us all alone, like that was all it took.

This is probably why It took me so long to learn my name or maybe it was because they thought I would get adopted early and didn't want me to get confused.

This baby brain was fascinating though, working like a true water, deprived sponge, taking in everything I was learning.

I think the fact that I had a better attention span than other babies really helped as well. I was able to measure my progress better when I was allowed in the playpen with the other slightly, older babies. These babies were around maybe 2-4 years old and were already working on proper walking and talking(copying) some more complex words which is why they put the playpen right by this old TV where baby shows would play until three and leave us there until lunch where afterward we would be put to a nap until all the other kids arrived from school.

In reality, I think that the children were actually learning from me since I was the one sitting in front of the television watching 'Signore Tucano' teach us the alphabet and numbers while carefully repeating everything to make sure I got the convincing accent incase my Colombian accent from my past life ever shined through.

I still wish something, anything would happen at this point; everything is moving so relatively slow.

Oh shit, I just jinxed it didn't I.

* * *

 **(A/N): Ok, time for the part that everyone likes to skip over.(which they shouldn't)**

 **I'm really glad some people just decided to go ahead and put this story on their 'favorites' and 'alerts', but I want to be honest with you. I was kind of disappointed in the lack of reviews considering all the traffic I got for the prologue, but I still appreciate** **bravewings** **and** **Madam3Mayh3m** **for reviewing and a very warm shout out to them.**

 **Seriously though, I only ask for a review because I just want to know if everyone is enjoying reading my story as much as I like writing it. The traffic stats tell me nothing. All it does is tell me that people are looking at the story and not much else.**

 **I'm working on a schedule to get chapters up ASAP, but I think I'm liking this method of just doing it on my spare time and posting it.**

 **Thank you for reading!**


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